


Bleachers

by EmeraldsAndAmethyst



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cheerleaders, Gift Fic, M/M, Slash, Wet Dream, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4458371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldsAndAmethyst/pseuds/EmeraldsAndAmethyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter dreams about a cute cheerleader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleachers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sciderman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciderman/gifts).



Peter barely had the energy to pull off his mask before he fell into bed, exhausted.

 

Closing his eyes, he slept.

* * *

 

Peter was sitting on the wall in the chemistry study hall, attempting to explain valence shell electron models to an elephant with exceptionally long tusks.

 

_**[Subtle.]** _

 

Peter waved his hand as if batting away at a particularly annoying fly and began, again, from the beginning.

 

“OK. So. An atom needs all eight of their electrons to be happy, except for hydrogen needs two. Atoms just need their outer shell fully filled. So if two atoms are bonding, they share electrons, so they’re happy,” he said with a sigh, rubbing his head as he explained this basic theory of chemistry to his empty brained undergrads for what felt like the millionth time.

 

A black persian cat sat at the study table where before there was the elephant.

 

“So the atoms just need to be **all filled up** in order to **be happy**?” she asked, the picture of boredom and disinterest as she took notes with the pencil held in her tail.

 

“Yes! Exactly! You’ve got it!” Peter said, holding his hands up(? to the side?) as if in salvation.

 

_**[Boy does she ever.]** _

 

_[*raucous howling*]_

 

_**[I didn’t even know you knew how to spell raucous.]** _

 

A glossy coated Irish Setter, that really had been studying there the entire time, stood up and padded over to Black Cat the black cat.

 

“Hey, Tiger. Wanna go eat out?” she asked her plainly.

 

“Of course, hot stuff, wanna go to The Y Diner just off of campus?”  the cat replied, cool as you please.

 

Then, with the logic of the dreaming mind, Peter was photographing cheer practice for the school paper.

 

_[Finally!]_

 

The head cheerleader was especially captivating. His shoulders were broad and strong. The crop top-esque uniform top accentuating his well muscled arms and showing off his intriguing scars. The pleated skirt swirling with his motions, drawing attention to his amazing thighs.

 

_**[** **Man, now I want to bang us.]** _

 

_[That description is terrible and you know it.]_

 

“Guys shut up, it’s my line!” the lead cheerleader whispiered violently at nothing/his thought boxes/but really nothing because how could Peter Parker accurately imagine what they said when he had never truly heard them?

 

_**[You’re ruining our moment, author.]** _

 

“What up, baby boy?” he said coyly to Peter, posing for the camera and flaunting his thighs. Incidentally showing off his cotton Spider-Man panties.

 

Peter knew that he tried to keep it professional but the photoshoot was quickly turning into a rather large number of panty shots, mostly of the head cheerleader’s toned glutes and, well...

 

“You can call me Wade, tiger,” Wade said, giggling behind his hand faux-coquettishly.

 

Time passed in the dream, most definitely, time was passing. Centuries at least, maybe even minutes.

 

Peter was on his knees behind the bleachers, holding Wade’s skirt up as he mouthed Wade’s cock through the thin cotton panties. His erection strained where it was contained by the fabric, too large to stay inside his panties his head and a few inches of shaft stood proud.

 

“Mmmm, not that this isn’t lovely, baby boy, but this is kinda OOC, ain’t it?” Wade asked noone/the author/Peter.

 

“Huh?” Peter looked up at Wade, blinking his eyes in confusion behind his glasses.

 

Wade pulled Peter up and slid slowly down Peter’s slim body, clearly enjoying the feeling of Peter’s his toned muscles against his hands and lips as he slid down onto his knees. Peter’s cock was straining against his pants, his camera forgotten and glasses askew.

 

Wade hummed in delight as he unbuttoned Peter’s pants discovered Peter Parker was going commando today.

 

“Look at that cock, baby boy, so eager!” Wade said. Peter was rock hard, his foreskin stretched tight across his head, clear drops of precum glistening in the sunlight. Wade gently teased his foreskin down from the head and started working his shaft with his scarred hand.

 

“Hoo, Wade,” Peter moaned.

 

Wade licked up Peter’s glistening precum and twirled his tongue along the slit.

 

“Hnnn!” Peter whined, resting his hands on Wade’s head.

 

“Mmm, you wanna fuck this mouth, baby boy?” Wade purred as he pressed kisses around the head of Peter’s cock.

 

“Fuck, yes,” Peter said, arching his hips against Wade’s still teasing hand.

 

“Well it must be your lucky day, ‘cause I want you to fuck my mouth, too,” Wade said, eyes flashing.

 

Needing no further invitation Peter grabbed Wade’s head and thrust his cock into Wade’s warm, wet mouth.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Peter gasped. He whined under his breath as he rocked back, shaft glistening from Wade’s saliva. Wade hummed and teased his tongue around the head of Peter’s cock as he pulled back.

 

“God damn,” Peter thrust back into Wade’s mouth and settled into a fast and hard rhythm. Wade wrapped his thumb and first finger around Peter’s cock, hand against his lips, squeezing gently.

 

“W-wade!”

 

With the logic of dreaming Wade’s fingers were coated in lube as he teased at Peter’s tight entrance with his other hand as Peter fucked his wet, hot mouth.

 

“Ah, fuck, I’m so close,” Peter groaned.

 

Wade slid his lubed finger into Peter’s ass, curling it down, seeking out Peter’s prostate.

 

_**[Woah. Hello! When did we lube up, excatly?]** _

 

_[SHHHH dreaming, remember. You’re ruining the MOMENT.]_

 

Peter rocked back against Wade’s finger, panting. Wade hummed contentedly as Peter’s smooth thrusting grew stilted as Wade found his prostate.

 

“Wade, I’m gonna, fuck, I’m cuming,” Peter cried out, holding onto Wade’s head, keeping him in place as he came. Peter saw Wade swallowing his cum before—

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter snapped awake, shoving off of his bed and falling onto the floor in a tangle of sheets. After a few moments of flailing he ripped his way out of the sheets.

 

“Damnit! I liked those sheets,” he complained to himself as he stood up, shaking off the now ruined sheets.

 

“Fucking Deadpool, ugh. What is wrong with my **brain** ,” he muttered to himself as he pulled off his costume’s top and flung it against the wall then the floor with a ‘whap-shsh’.

 

“I mean just last night he killed that entire U.L.T.I.M.A.T.U.M. cell,” his gloves and ‘tactical socks’ joined the pile. ‘Whff-sh’ ‘whff-sh’’ ‘whff-sh’ ‘whff-sh’.

 

Peter shuddered as he carefully pulled off his webshooters and placed them gently in their drawer.

 

Peter’s phone blipped an 8-bit fireball noise as it pinged a text. Groaning, he shucked his spandex pants into the pile. ‘Whap-shsh’.

 

“Ugh, when did that match stick get near my phone?” he mumbled to himself, grabbing his phone as he flopped back into bed.

  
_**-fin // to be continued ???-** _


End file.
